


Keep This Love

by writergirl8



Series: 30 Minute Fics [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Lydia's taking a photography class and Stiles happens to look good naked, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 12:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13681860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl8/pseuds/writergirl8
Summary: "If I had known this is what would happen when you said you wanted to take pictures of my dick, I would’ve been here, like, four days ago.”





	Keep This Love

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while sitting in my ethics class, which is ironically very unethical of me. Don't worry, my screen brightness was very low. 
> 
> Title from Photograph by Ed Sheeran
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day!

“I don’t get why you’re taking an art class in the first place.”

The complaint in Stiles’ voice is probably more a reflection of the fact that he doesn’t want to do this than it is a protest of her taking the art class itself, but Lydia still chooses to ignore it. After all, she’d anticipated some sort of resistance. She’d already come up with a plan to combat it. It’s going to be fine.

“Maybe it’s to distract myself from the fact that my boyfriend goes to school several hours away.”

It’s cold outside, and Lydia can feel her nose glowing pink with chill, but the redness of Stiles’ cheeks are worth it. They’re walking along mucky brown snow which has already melted from the storm last week, both bundled up in hats and coats and, in Stiles’ case, a knitted scarf that he’s only wearing because Melissa had made it for him. It’s lumpy and Lydia knows that it’s his favorite.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Instead of getting sex, I get _creative_.” She does sarcastic jazz hands to punctuate it. Stiles responds by catching the hand that had been previously wrapped in his and presses a kiss to the palm before he winds his fingers around hers again and keeps on walking.

“How does horniness make you _more_ productive?”

The look on his face is simultaneously awed and exasperated, and Lydia smirks as she fishes through her pocket for the key of the room that she’d rented on the studio floor. Once she finds it, she opens the door to the building and Stiles stares at it like it’s his greatest nemesis.

“Come on, Stiles,” she coaxes gently. “I promise you, it’s not a big deal.”

Still, he swallows before taking two steps into the building, as though as soon as they get inside Lydia’s going to command him to strip naked and dance like a moron and he will be powerless to stop it.

God, he can be dramatic sometimes. She really loves that about him. It’s overblown and goofy and ridiculous and she doesn’t know how anybody as beautiful as he is can be insecure, but there’s a reason she’d chosen him for this art project. He’s always her favorite subject, no matter what classes she takes.

They take the elevator up a few floors, and Lydia stretches up on her tip-toes and kiss Stiles as it moves, taking care to tuck her cold fingers into the top of his jeans. He jumps at the cold against his ass, but doesn’t protest when she moves her hands deeper, sliding her tongue up his in thanks.

Stiles’ cheeks are a different kind of red by the time the doors to the elevators ding open; he swings their hands loosely as they walk down the hall, only letting go so that Lydia can unlock the door to the studio. It’s empty inside, with canvases still carefully placed where she’d put them yesterday, using one of her friends as a stand-in for the lighting. Bright sunlight is tumbling through the window onto the hardwood floor, and Lydia can already see it, Stiles’ cheek washed in sunlight, his eye staring at her camera, pupils dilated while he looks at her.

He’s taking in the scene in front of him as he puts down her camera bag, the one she’d bought when she’d registered for the class because there is _no_ way she is using the crappy school cameras that are masquerading as “quality.”

“It looks professional,” he notes. “It’s weirdly hot in here, though.”

“Oh, I did that on purpose,” Lydia says offhandedly. Stiles stares at her, confused. “What? Shrinkage.”

He groans, hiding his face in his hands, so Lydia walks up to him with determination, prying his palms away from him.

“Can’t you get someone else to do this?”

“I can call Isaac.” He actually growls, which makes a chuckle escape her lips before she can stop it. “Okay, then. So strip.”

“Okay,” says Stiles, taking a deep breath. “Here I go.” He doesn’t move. “Stripping now.” No movement. “I am gonna take my clothes off so that you can take naked pictures of me in ten… nine… eight…”

“Stiles,” snaps Lydia. “What _exactly_ is the problem here?”

“Problem? Uh, no. No problem for Stiles. I’m already naked, see?” He mimes pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the ground, then quietly says “taaa daaa,” flailing his arms outwards for good measure.

It’s best to ignore him when he gets caught up in his head on ridiculous points, but seeing as the situation involves nudity, Lydia isn’t allowed to just drag his clothes from his body and force him to pose like Kate Winslet in Titanic. Instead, she goes for patience, folding her hands in front of her and saying,

“You do realize that I’ve seen your naked ass before, right?”

Stiles hits his closed fist against his palm as he narrows his eyes at her, irked.

“The ass isn’t the part that I’m worried about.”

“Well,” says Lydia slowly. “The other part has _literally_ been inside of my body, so there’s no surprise in store for me there either.”

“It’s not that either!” He shouts it a little bit, his voice echoing across the empty room. Lydia raises her eyebrows, pretending to be stern, but satisfaction is coursing through her. _Now_ they’re getting somewhere. “Everyone’s gonna have, like, these epic models and you’re gonna have… me.”

“I love having you.”

“Yeah, but I mean… I’m not… like if you put my picture up against theirs you see—”

“The same person I’ve been dating for two years,” she reminds him gently.

“But then _they_ see—”

“Why don’t you stop thinking about what they see?” Her voice is soft as she takes a step forward, looking up at him with earnest eyes. “Think about me. _I_ want to see you do this. _I_ want to take pictures of you. And if I do them and edit them and you decide that you don’t want anyone else to see them, no harm no foul. I’ll set my favorite as the wallpaper on my phone and we’ll move on.”

“Lydia!” he says, eyes wide. She laughs, finally moving close enough to wrap her arms around his neck, nuzzling her nose against his. He’s still staring at her in horror at the idea of his naked picture as her wallpaper, and it’s with the instinct of having done it a million times before that he bends his head down so that she can reach his nose without stretching too far up on her toes.

“I know it’s nerve-wracking,” she tells him. “I forget that not everyone’s been naked in front the entire Beacon Hills police department. So you don’t have to.”

He closes his eyes, dipping his head to catch her upper lip between his, tugging on it and then simply pressing a simple kiss on her mouth before he lets go.

“Fine,” he says lowly. “But I get final photo approval, got it?”

Lydia steps back, raising to her full height.

“Got it.”

“And I’m not posing with, like, a guitar or anything stupid like that.”

“Do you see a guitar in here?”

“Just making sure.”

“You have my word.”

“And no photos that are taken behind me with my knees bent and my finger on my lips.”

Lydia salutes him.

“Aye-aye, captain.”

“And if I say you have to not use the pictures of me, you can’t use Isaac.”

“Okay.”

“ _Or_ Scott.”

“Okay.”

“You can use Greenberg, though. I’m still Facebook friends with him, I could hook you up.”

“Noted.”

“Alright then.” He reaches behind himself and hesitates for just a moment before grabbing his t-shirt by the collar and whipping it off, bunching it up in his hand and looking across the room at her. “Pants now?”

“Pants now,” she affirms. Stiles reaches down for the button and doesn’t move. Lydia stares unabashedly at his happy trail, then finds herself moving towards his body, her bottom lip in her mouth. She moves his hands to his side, then unbuttons the top button on his jeans, pressing her lips against his chest and biceps as she slides the zipper down. Finally she stretches up to nip at his earlobe before she slips the jeans past his hips, lowering them until they fall down his legs.

“I thought going commando would make it go faster,” he manages to mumble out.

Moving back, Lydia studies her canvas appreciatively. He’s gorgeous. Now all she needs to do is to get him to untense.

“Oh,” she says. “I almost forgot.”

“You forgot something? I’m _already_ naked and now you realize you forg—”

Stiles stutters to a stop when Lydia lifts her baggy sweater over her head, leaving her in the see-through bra that she had bought for today. Her nipples have been pointing since she’d kissed him, knowing what she was about to do, feeling her breasts rub against his bare chest. It was a good decision, Lydia thinks from the slack-jawed expression on Stiles’ face. She’s suddenly glad there’d been so much build-up so that the reward would make him look at her like _this_.

“I figured turnabout is fair play,” she informs him. “And,” she continues, “if you’d like to see the underwear that goes with it, I think that can be arranged.”

With that, she bends down to pick up the camera, purposefully giving him extra time to look at the panties and the thigh-high stockings with a seam up the back. It turns out that teasing her boyfriend is one of Lydia’s favorite reasons for wearing skirts in the winter, pulling in third after easy access for Stiles and looking untouchably hot, which is still number one.

Quickies in cars? Check. World domination? Check.

Skirts are _very_ multi-functional.

“Wow, I… if I had known this is what would happen when you said you wanted to take pictures of my dick, I would’ve been here like four days ago.”

“Speaking of your dick,” Lydia says slyly, causing Stiles to release a short laugh. “The light’s _perfect_ right now. If we finish up with the pictures I can have it in my mouth in— say… two hours?” She checks the clock on her phone, then nods in satisfaction. “Does that sound good to you?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes.”

She snaps a picture of the expression on his face, but that one’s just for her.

“Good.” She smiles at him, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she lifts the camera to eyelevel, staring at Stiles in the screen. “All you have to do is everything I say.” Lydia’s eyes flick up to Stiles’ to see how he reacts to that, but she doesn’t see any protest at all. Instead, she sees his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, paralleling a movement taking place a little lower. “Now,” begins Lydia briskly. “Get on the floor.”


End file.
